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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28479546">A Duckovery</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonanzar/pseuds/Dragonanzar'>Dragonanzar</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon compliant to end of the books, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Predatory ducks!, Tooth-Rotting Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:14:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,812</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28479546</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonanzar/pseuds/Dragonanzar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry can't stay out of trouble, it seems; his peaceful year back at Hogwarts after the War is disrupted when he discovers a new version of our favourite, friendly water fowl. </p><p>Or</p><p>‘If it looks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then it probably is a duck.’ – the Duck Test; a form of abductive reasoning.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Potter/Charlie Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>127</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Duckovery</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written as a Secret Santa present for QuackQuack, enjoy some pure fluff for the Christmas season.  </p><p>Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What the <em>bloody hell</em> is that?!” Ron cried out, the words wrenched from his suddenly pale face. Harry didn’t blame him; in fact the only thing stopping him from copying his best mate was the fact that no words would emerge from his throat. It wasn’t everyday one saw a supposed generally peaceful waterfowl suddenly become an apex predator and completely <em>destroy</em> a – relatively innocent – fox that only seemed to have come for some water.</p><p>The completely innocuous, brown-feathered bird had only drawn Harry and Ron’s attention because of the cuteness of the line of yellow and brown balls of fluff that had been following it. Even eighteen year old war veterans could take a moment to appreciate the beauty of nature when it involved ducklings bobbing and struggling along in their mother’s wake. The drab matriarch had simply glided serenely on, seemingly only bothering to keep a weather eye on the humans in case they had brought some bread with them – they hadn’t – but otherwise ignoring them.</p><p>Gliding to the edge of the lake, she made the usual ungainly half-jump, half flap to propel herself out of the water and onto the bank. Of course, her movement was graceful in comparison to that of the bits of fluff swimming in her wake; Harry and Ron had amused themselves by pointing out the duckling which was failing the worst at mimicking their mother.</p><p>Then had come the fateful moment. All but one of the ducklings had succeeded in surmounting the bank, and had followed after their mother who was calmly pecking at the ground, eating something or other. Then the fox had come. Ron and Harry had tensed, their hands on their wands in case it turned nasty – foxes weren’t exactly <em>big</em> but they had sharp teeth and could no doubt be dangerous when they chose to be. It had ignored them, sauntering over to the water and bending its head down for a drink.</p><p>Then, the movement of the lone fluffball still trying to make its way out of the water catching its attention, it had tensed, its head tilting to point at the struggling duckling. Its movement taking on more of a slink, the fox had started moving more purposely towards the vulnerable baby duck. Their eyes on the fox, both young men deciding whether or not to intervene, they had missed the initial transformation of the mother duck.</p><p>They did, however, pay attention to her when she <em>ran</em> at the fox, suddenly double the size, ominous shadows pouring off her feathers, eyes blood-red and <em>breathing fire</em>! That poor fox hadn’t stood a chance. Its fur singing from the flames emerging from that hell-duck’s beak, the carnivore had only had enough time to let out a strange cry before those rippling shadows engulfed it and then there was nothing but silence.</p><p>Within moments, the shadows withdrew, leaving a mummified husk behind: that fox was most definitely not going to be chasing any more ducklings. Harry and Ron stared down the transformed beast’s demonic gaze, both pale and too shocked to react beyond locking eyes with those red orbs. Fortunately, the mother duck apparently decided they weren’t threats and, before their eyes, shrank to half her size, the shadows disappearing as if they had never existed and her eyes losing their blood-like cast. As if nothing had happened, she waddled over to her duckling, quacked quietly as if to say ‘come on, now’ and then wandered back off to the rest of her brood the moment her errant ball of fluff made it to the bank.</p><p>Which left Ron and Harry staring at each other as they tried to wordlessly ask the other whether that had <em>really</em> happened.</p><p>“That is <em>not</em> a duck!” averred Ron quietly after his initial outburst.</p><p>“You’re telling me, mate,” Harry agreed with a hint of nausea as he stared down at the dehydrated husk of what had been a living creature moments ago. “But what <em>is</em> it?” Ron shivered, and then found the presence of mind to shrug.</p><p>“No idea, mate.” Harry gave him a sideways look.</p><p>“You mean, it’s not some kind of magic duck?” he asked, half-sarcastically, half honestly – it wasn’t as if he hadn’t been on a journey of discovery ever since entering (or re-entering) the magical world, after all. If skeletal horses with wings which ate meat and could only be seen by those who had witnessed death existed, why not fire-breathing, mummifying ducks?</p><p>“Of course not!” exclaimed Ron derisively, colour finally coming back into his cheeks. “Why in Merlin’s name would you think that?” Harry just rolled his eyes.</p><p>“My mistake,” he murmured – he and Hermione had given up long ago on try to get Ron to see things from their point of view. A wry smile coming to his face, Harry wondered what the resident genius would say to <em>this</em>.</p><p>XXX</p><p>“We need to report it,” was the firm response Hermione gave upon hearing her boys’ story. Fully recovered by this point, Ron had taken to telling the tale with gusto, exaggerating (in his usual fashion), the size of the duck and the danger they had been in. Now on his third retelling – a number of their classmates who had all been having dinner in the Great Hall at the time of the first recital and who had only started paying attention towards the end of the story demanding it – Harry was interested to know that apparently the duck had rushed towards them and knocked him over.</p><p>By Ron’s account, the only thing that had stopped the Man-who-killed-You-Know-Who from becoming a second mummified corpse on the ground had been Ron’s brave charge and cunning use of first a shield charm, and then a transfiguration of a rock to a dog to create a distraction. Privately, Harry wondered whether Ron realised he was copying Cedric Diggory’s strategy against the dragon four years ago, or whether he thought he was being original. Either way, Harry decided that there was no harm in letting him have his fun, and just shared a look with his best female friend before responding.</p><p>“Report it?” Harry asked. “To who?”</p><p>“To whom, Harry,” Hermione corrected absent-mindedly. “And I imagine to the Ministry. That department for the control of magical creatures ought to be good for something,” she continued with a note of distaste in her voice. That particular department was a sore spot for her, given that they were the ones who had almost killed Buckbeak in their third year, not to mention that they were the final arbitrators in any situations of reported house elf abuse. To say that Hermione had…<em>issues</em>…with them, was putting it lightly. Harry and Ron were secretly running a bet about what Hermione would do after school – taking over the department and turning it on its ear was not the question; how long it would take her <em>was</em>.</p><p>“Alright,” Harry sighed, pushing himself to his feet. He supposed that it would be better for him to do it than Ron – while his best friend had gained some fame and popularity for his part in defeating Voldemort, it was still nothing in comparison to what Harry had received. For his part, Harry was simply glad that Ron had got over his teenage jealousy; as far as he was concerned, Ron was welcome to all the adulation, and the irritation that came along with it… “I’ll go and ask McGonagall if I can use her floo.”</p><p>“<em>Headmistress</em> McGonagall,” Hermione emphasised with a gimlet stare. Harry just rolled his eyes again.</p><p>“Hermione, she’s invited me to call her ‘Minerva’ in private,” he responded impatiently. “I hardly think standing on ceremony is something she’s particularly interested in.”</p><p>“It’s a sign of respect, Harry,” Hermione argued. Harry sighed, knowing that he wouldn’t win this.</p><p>“I’ll see you later, Hermione,” he finished, casting a glance at his other best friend. Still holding court and on his fourth – or was it fifth? – retelling, Ron hadn’t even noticed him standing up. Oh well. He left the hall, thinking wryly that it was nice to be back to normal – he’d take the irritation of his friends and school over the Camping Trip from Hell any day….</p><p>XXX</p><p>The next morning, Harry was sitting in the Great Hall, eating breakfast. Hermione was next to him, doing her usual activity of carefully eating one-handed while holding a book with the other, and Ron was sleepily shovelling food into his mouth. After their experiences horcrux hunting, and the near-starvation that had happened more than once, Harry wasn’t surprised that Ron’s table manners had degenerated, though he <em>was</em> a little taken aback that it was possible.</p><p>Given how intent Ron was on his food, Harry was astounded when he surfaced long enough to notice someone walking in with the Headmistress when Harry hadn’t. He figured that it was only because Ron was facing the right direction while Harry had his back to the Head Table that such an unprecedented event occurred.</p><p>“Ch-gruph-eee,” Ron garbled through a mouthful of food. Harry couldn’t help looking in morbid curiosity at the masticated mush lurking in his mouth and surreptitiously wiped his face in case any of it had landed on him.</p><p>“What, Ron?” he asked warily, hoping not to have a repeat. Fortunately, Ron chewed a couple more times before gulping the lot down and pointing behind Harry.</p><p>“Charlie!” he exclaimed, his words a lot clearer this time. At the name, Harry whipped around, his mood immediately brightening as his eyes fell on the red-haired figure, his signature dragon-tooth earing dangling. He was conversing with McGonagall, but, as if feeling eyes on him, he looked up a moment later, and their eyes met. Harry couldn’t help the grin spreading across his face at the warm look in those brown eyes and his chest felt tight when Ron’s older brother quickly finished his conversation and walked quickly towards them.</p><p>“Budge over,” he said cheerfully in his tenor voice. Harry happily made space for him on the bench between him and Hermione (who Harry was pretty sure hadn’t actually noticed anything about the last five minutes. In fact, her fork was hovering over mid-air, the scrambled egg piled on it trembling perilously as she ignored it in favour of whatever she was reading). Charlie slid gracefully into the vacated space and then they looked at each other.</p><p>“Hi,” Harry said, for want of something better.</p><p>“Hi,” Charlie replied, a soft look on his face that made Harry was to just slide his hands up to both cheeks and…but no, not in the Great Hall.</p><p>“What are you doing here, Charlie?” Ron demanded, completely ignoring their interplay. Fortunately, this time he didn’t have a mouthful of food, so his question was actually comprehensible. The soft look leaving his face, the elder Weasley’s expression took on a more business-like mien.</p><p>“Actually, if Minerva’s correct, you two are the ones to talk to anyway. I’ve been called in to investigate some sort of duck hybrid.” Harry’s brow furrowed in confusion.</p><p>“Why are they calling you in? It’s not like it’s a dragon.” After the Final Battle, and the death of Fred, Charlie had decided to take on a part-time job with the Ministry. Consulting, in fact. It had been the best compromise he could think of where he wouldn’t have to leave the dragons he loved, but at the same time, was able to visit his family a bit more. As a consultant, when being brought in by the Ministry, his portkey was sponsored and expedited, meaning that he was able to visit The Burrow at least once a month, rather than the once a year they were lucky to get before. However, Harry had thought that he was only called in on <em>dragon</em> business. Charlie shrugged.</p><p>“From your report of ‘fire-breathing’, there could easily be some draconic influence in what is clearly a cross-breed. I don’t know – the job landed on my desk for some reason; I wasn’t going to turn it down.”</p><p>“Fair,” Harry admitted. He certainly didn’t mind that it was <em>Charlie</em> who had come to investigate.</p><p>“So, what happened?” Harry launched into the tale, pre-empting Ron, who no doubt would have added even <em>more</em> embellishments, given that this was the tenth (or more) time he’d been asked to tell it. Harry, on the other hand, kept it factual and as detailed as possible about the creature. At the end, Charlie looked thoughtful.</p><p>“So, what you do you think?” Harry asked.</p><p>“Well,” he considered, speaking slowly, “I think there is little chance that it isn’t a cross-breed of some sort. It’s probably going to be…difficult to capture, but that would definitely be my preference. Maybe some drugged bait, or something. Do you know if it’s been fed by the students?” Harry shrugged.</p><p>“No idea.” Then he grinned quickly. “But I’ve got an idea…”</p><p>XXX</p><p>A few minutes later, with some purloined goods filling their pockets, they were wandering out of the Great Hall, leaving Harry’s friends behind – Ron was still stuffing his face and had shuddered at the idea of visiting the ‘demon duck’ again, and Harry had barely been able to pull Hermione’s attention away from the book long enough to give her absent-minded refusal. As soon as they were out of the doors, Charlie darted a quick glance around and then put his hand to Harry’s back and guided him to a broom closet just around the corner. Willingly, even eagerly going with him, Harry found an anticipatory smile curling the corners of his mouth.</p><p>In the dim fingers of light creeping through the ill-fitting doors of the closet, Harry could see the hungry look in Charlie’s eyes, and a lust of his own arose in his chest. He licked his lips, almost nervously, and Charlie’s warm brown eyes followed the movement like those of the predators he worked with. Impatient, Harry leant forwards, sliding his hand around the back of Charlie’s neck and pulling the taller man’s head down towards him. Very soon, hungry mouths met, and the passionate dance of lips and tongues started, waves of heat and desire running through both of them.</p><p>All too soon, they broke for air, and stood there, not even an inch apart, their breaths caressing each other’s shining lips. Harry searched Charlie’s eyes and saw that the fire of lust had only been stoked. Unfortunately, unlike during the trysts they’d succeeded in pursuing over the summer, with Charlie able to visit Grimmauld Place, this couldn’t go any further – McGonagall would skin Harry if he was caught in a <em>broom closet</em> of all things, and that was nothing on what Hermione’s reaction would likely be. While Harry wasn’t Head Boy – how Eighth Year students fitted into Hogwarts’ hierarchy had been a headache enough without trying to make one of them Head Boy – his Headmistress had made it clear that while he was in the school, he was expected to be an example. She had said all this with a gimlet stare that had made it clear she vividly remembered the…adventures…Harry and his friends had got up to in their previous years. Harry had acquiesced to her none-too-subtle command, personally hoping for a quiet year: he’d had enough ‘adventure’ to last a lifetime!</p><p>Apparently his desires were not to be quite met – murderous duck-hybrids had certainly not been in Harry’s visions of a quiet year. His thoughts reminding him of their purpose, he drew away from his boyfriend reluctantly.</p><p>“We’d better go to the lake,” he reminded the dragon-expert. Charlie looked like he wanted to argue, but then sighed and agreed.</p><p>“Yeah, probably,” he said, disgruntlement in his voice. Sighing, he let his hand fall out of where it had been tangled in Harry’s hair, and he turned to the door, opening it a crack to check whether anyone was just outside, and then pushing it open more fully when he saw that the coast was clear.</p><p>They wandered down towards the lake, exchanging casual conversation covering everything and nothing. Harry had been sending his boyfriend letters at least weekly, but they had been broad brushstrokes not the detailed, deeper things which would be too awkward on paper. Charlie had sent him similar updates, so they used the opportunity of seeing each other in person to catch up properly.</p><p>Surrounded by crisp autumn air, almost the beginning of winter, Harry couldn’t help but remember where this whole thing had started, in such a different setting.</p><p><em>“We don’t blame you, you know,” a voice said, startling Harry out of his morose musing as he sat on a bench outside The Burrow, wondering if he should even </em>be<em> there.</em></p><p>
  <em>“What?” he asked, lost for anything better to say. Charlie shrugged, taking a seat next to him on the bench. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“We don’t blame you,” his elder repeated patiently. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I never said you did,” Harry retorted defensively.</em>
</p><p><em>“Perhaps,” Charlie mused thoughtfully. “Perhaps you just feel like we </em>should<em>.” And that…that hit far too close to home. </em></p><p><em>The Weasley family weren’t dealing well with the loss of Fred, not that Harry would expect them to. George was the worst, moping around, seemingly unable to function without the presence of someone who had been there since before they were born. But if he was the worst, that didn’t mean that everyone else was fine – Mrs Weasley swung between manic energy where she cooked up a storm, making more food than could be reasonably eaten by a family double the number of the Weasleys, and bursting into tears at a moment’s notice. Even Percy seemed to be affected – despite his recent estrangement from his family, the death of a brother had brought him back to them, for a time at least. Perhaps he had become frustrated enough with Fred to strangle him sometimes, but Fred was </em>his<em> brother to strangle. At the hands of someone else, it became a tragedy. But Ginny…</em></p><p>
  <em>Harry hadn’t realised Fred was actually her favourite brother – slightly softer and kinder than George, and the twins had been the only ones who had noticed something was wrong many times everyone else had overlooked her. Apparently they were also the only ones who had encouraged her in her desire to fly and to become a quidditch star. She had taken his death hard, and regardless of what Charlie was saying to him now, Harry couldn’t help feeling that she blamed him for not ending the war sooner, or for dragging their family into this conflict in the first place.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And maybe she was right to do so. The Weasleys would probably have been involved anyway – Mrs Weasley’s brothers had been part of the original order – but maybe they wouldn’t have been such priority targets if they hadn’t been known to be close to Harry, Undesirable No. 1. Maybe if Ron hadn’t made friends with Harry on the train, Fred would still be alive now; Bill would be unscarred; Percy wouldn’t have been estranged.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Fred’s death wasn’t your fault,” Charlie’s voice interrupted Harry’s thoughts, and for a moment Harry wondered if he had suddenly turned into a mind-reader. Looking over, he realised that no, Charlie was just observant enough to read his thoughts on his face, his sharp eyes decoding every flicker of emotion that passed over Harry’s features. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“But if Ron hadn’t been my friend –“ Harry started, but Charlie once more interrupted him.</em>
</p><p><em>“It wouldn’t have made any difference. Fred wasn’t targeted because of Ron being your friend, or even because the Weasleys are known to be your supporters. He…he died because he believed in fighting for what was right, and he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Harry opened his mouth to argue, though he wasn’t entirely sure of what he would say, but Charlie didn’t give him a chance. Fixing him with a stare that brooked no defiance, he emphasised, “It was </em>not<em> your fault.” There was a pause.</em></p><p>
  <em>“But how do you know that?” Harry asked finally, his voice suddenly hoarse. Charlie sighed and silence hung in the air for a few moments before he answered.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Because I know what misplaced guilt feels like,” he said finally, his tone heavy. Harry stayed silent, hoping that he would elaborate, but not wanting to ask. “I’ve felt guilty for running away, for moving to Romania to be away from my family, for not being there when I was needed…. With help from a couple of friends, I’ve come to realise that my choices were not the cause of my family’s loss – that blame is squarely on Voldemort and those who followed him.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You make it sound so easy, Harry murmured a little bitterly, looking away.” Charlie chuckled mirthlessly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Not at all,” he corrected. “And I’m still struggling to really believe it here.” He touched his shirt above where his heart lay. “Which is why I’ve decided to look for a way of spending more time in the UK.” Harry looked back at him sharply.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You’re going to give up your job at the reserve? I thought you loved that job.” Charlie sighed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I do…but I love my family more. Ideally, I’d find something that combines the two, but what are the chances of that?”</em>
</p><p>After that time outside The Burrow, Harry found himself drifting towards Charlie on more than one occasion, feeling like he was an oasis in a desert of sorrow. It wasn’t that he grieved Fred’s death any less, it was just that he seemed to recognise that it didn’t mean the end of the world for everyone else. Perhaps Bill would have had a similar approach, what with his future with Fleur to think of, but Harry rarely saw him, and he never stayed over.</p><p>At first, Harry had been embarrassed, feeling like he was leeching off Charlie’s time, but after a few almost sharp words from the older Weasley, he came to accept that his company was just as welcome to Charlie as Charlie’s was to him. Things had…developed from there, especially after Harry had offhandedly commented to someone in the Ministry about Charlie’s desire to find a job that could be combined with his work at the dragon reserve, resulting completely unexpectedly in a spontaneous job offer that did exactly that.</p><p>When Charlie had confronted him with that, and Harry had responded in earnest confusion, it had led to their first kiss. The memory making him blush, he decided that this would be a perfect place to steal a kiss, and proceeded to do so.</p><p>“What was that for?” Charlie asked warmly, a moment after they had pulled apart.</p><p>“Just remembering our first kiss,” Harry admitted. Charlie gave him a sly smile.</p><p>“Want to revisit the memory again?” he asked. Harry wasn’t going to turn down an offer like that!</p><p>XXX</p><p>“So that’s her?” Charlie asked as they watched an ordinary-looking brown duck waddle along the banks of the Black Lake a gaggle of ducklings following after her obediently. They had finally made it down to the lake’s edge, after more than one…distraction.</p><p>“Yup,” Harry answered warily.</p><p>“Alright,” murmured Charlie, taking out his wand and transfiguring a rock not far from the duck into a dog.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Harry asked, slightly alarmed as the dog started wandering towards the duck-dragon-thing.</p><p>“Gotta see what the report said in person,” Charlie answered absent-mindedly.</p><p>“What?!” Harry almost shouted, now fully alarmed, but his boyfriend just shushed him, focused entirely on the action in front of them. Directing the dog, Charlie tested whether the duck-thing would react to a predator being around – she did, but only to hiss at the dog in a way that was much more reminiscent of a goose than a duck – and then to find her limits. This turned out to, once more, be when her ducklings were threatened. In short order, the dog underwent the same attack as had the fox before it, and was soon a mummified, charred corpse that transformed back into a rock as soon as Charlie lifted the enchantment.</p><p>Harry looked at his boyfriend and felt like sighing – the look on Charlie’s face was an exact replica of that which came to Hagrid’s whenever dragons were mentioned.</p><p>“No,” Harry told him firmly. Charlie turned to him with an innocent look.</p><p>“What?” the red-head asked, seemingly completely unknowing of what had prompted Harry’s interdiction.</p><p>“No, you can’t keep her,” Harry expanded. Charlie looked wistful for a moment, and then sighed.</p><p>“No, I suppose not.” Looking mournful, he heaved another heavy exhalation of air. “Alright, I’d better report in on this, and organise a team to come and collect her. I don’t think we’ll try taking on what appears to be something with at least a bit of lethifold in it without a full five-wizard team, especially not with drugged breadcrumbs.” So saying, they started walking towards the gates, Harry deciding to accompany his boyfriend for as long as possible.</p><p>“Well,” Charlie started, hesitating before stepping through the gates. “I guess that unless you find any other possible dragon hybrids, we’ll see each other at Christmas?”</p><p>“Yeah,” agreed Harry heavily. “I guess so.” There were several benefits to Harry being back at school, finishing his education being a big one, but the major drawback was the lack of time to spend with his boyfriend…</p><p>“Alright, then.” Charlie got a mischievous look on his face. “Guess we’d better make this one count.” So saying, he swooped in to claim Harry’s lips for the nth time that day. This time, it felt like he was trying to imprint his feel and taste on Harry’s mouth so there would be no way he would be forgotten before they met again.</p><p>XXX</p><p>“Charlie?” Harry started as neutrally as he could. It was two months later, and they were at The Burrow to celebrate Christmas. He and Charlie had taken a rare opportunity to escape the family who seemed to be determined to be as loud and boisterous as ever, perhaps because of the very obvious absence in their midst. Still, as much as Harry understood it, it did get a bit much. Fortunately, Charlie completely agreed, and was more than happy to accompany him for a bit of a break…and a good kissing session. It was after one of these that Harry had spotted something which made him a little…concerned.</p><p>“Yes, Harry?” Charlie responded, in a voice that told him that his boyfriend was only a few moments away from recapturing his lips and sliding his hand a little lower…</p><p>“Is that a…duck on your pond?” he asked, more than a little suspiciously. Charlie pulled away slightly.</p><p>“Of course it is,” he responded innocently. “What else would it be?” Harry just examined his expression with narrowed eyes.</p><p>“Please tell me you didn’t sneak an experimental, dragon-lethifold-Merlin-knows-what-else hybrid out of the Ministry and into your back garden!” Charlie’s eyes took on a glint of mischief. The twins were always…had always been the <em>obvious</em> mischief-makers in the family, but there were times when Harry was reminded that they weren’t the <em>only</em> ones.</p><p>“Well, I didn’t <em>sneak</em> her out…” Charlie prevaricated. At Harry’s demanding look, he expanded. “The department decided that, despite her…potential risk, she was actually very docile unless feeling threatened, as well as completely sterile, so no real risk as long as she is under surveillance.”</p><p>“Sterile?” Harry’s train of thought was derailed by the seeming impossibility. “But she had a load of ducklings following her.” Charlie shrugged.</p><p>“They weren’t hers. Best we can guess is that she found a nest with no mother, or chased the mother off, and sat on the eggs. The ducklings were just normal, non-magical mallard ducks.”</p><p>“Huh,” Harry mused, a little taken aback, though he wasn’t really sure why. He looked at the duck, then back at Charlie. He sighed – he recognised that look in his boyfriend’s eyes – that duck wasn’t going anywhere. “I suppose this is as good a moment as any,” he sighed, bringing a wrapped box out of his pocket and handing it to Charlie. The red-head took it with a slight hint of confusion.</p><p>“But you already gave me my gift,” he pointed out. Harry shrugged.</p><p>“Am I not allowed to get my boyfriend something extra?” he asked rhetorically. “Anyway, it’s probably better you open it out here – it’ll stop Mr Weasley from asking about its function or something.” With a smile tugging at his lips, Charlie pulled at the ribbon holding the box together. Removing the lid, he looked into it, and that hint of a smile turned into a grin and chuckles.</p><p>“Merry Christmas,” Harry said, grinning as Charlie lifted the rubber duck out of its packaging. It made a squeaky quack as he squeezed it.</p><p>“Merry Christmas, Harry,” Charlie replied, and then swooped into for a kiss.  </p>
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